Mamma Mia, You Killed Kenny!
by K. J. Pitre
Summary: During the weekend of his wedding, Ike stumbles upon Kyle's diary. Kyle was always secretive about his past love life, and from what Ike read in his diary, Kyle fell in love, and still is! KylexStan KylexGregory KylexChristophe
1. Opening Note

**Mamma Mia,**

**You Killed Kenny!**

So what do you think? Still a little confused? Well, let me fill you in. First of all, this isn't the first chapter, well, technically it is, but it's just a little introduction to what the hell my little mind is up to. This idea has been buzzing for a while, and since I did it with the Rocky Horror Picture Show, why couldn't I do it with _this_, right?

So here's the not-so-brief summary. The story takes place on an island off the coast of California. Ike, now 20-years-old, is preparing to marry his girlfriend Flora. There has always been one question on Ike's mind since he could speak, who did Kyle lose his virginity to the first time in high school. The only thing he knows is that whoever it was, Kyle was in love with him and still is. Ike discovers his brother's old diary and finds entries which describe intimate dates with three men: Stan, Kyle's super best friend from grade school, Christophe, the roguishly charming travel writer, and Gregory, the heroically handsome homosexual rights activist. In as many nights, Ike believes that one of these men is Kyle's true love and, three months prior to the wedding, sends each an invitation to her wedding without letting her mother know - he forges his brother's writing.

So now you see how it fits in without the awkwardness of Ike being Kyle's son, and everything like that. Also, I realize that Sky in Mamma Mia! was a guy, and I could have just let him be a guy, but I can't see Ike gay, so I just let him get married to Flora, the little girl in "Trapper Keeper" who couldn't make up her mind on who to vote for. I didn't know who else for Ike to marry because they don't mention a lot of the kindergarten names except for Filmore and Kindergoth.

So there you have it. Put this story as an alert and wait for the actual first chapter. I'm currently working on it.

PS: Kenny doesn't die in this story, I won't have it.

K. J. Pitre


	2. A Honey, Honey with Money, Money, Money

**NOTE: To the people that read the first little bit, I may have mixed up a couple words slightly. One of the 'she's is supposed to be a 'he' or 'her' is supposed to be 'his' and the word 'mother' should be replaced with 'brother.' So here's how it goes for you people who haven't figured it out yet and are a bit confused. This story is based on the musical. And NO, Ike is not Kyle's son! They're still brothers. **

**NOTE 2: It would also appear that a lot of you read the first little bit. I know there are a LOT of Style fans, and there are a few Kyle and Christophe fans as well. Probably Christophe and Gregory too, but I dunno. What made me smile is that this story got, like, 100 hits in one day. That's just cool. Thanks a lot, you guys! Don't forget to read my other stories. R&R, please! Enjoy!**

* * *

**Mamma Mia,**

**You Killed Kenny!**

**K. J. Pitre**

**Prologue: I Have a Dream**

"No, absolutely not!" Kyle snapped, folding laundry on the couch.

"But why the hell not?!" Ike whined, standing in the kitchen doorway. "You said that once I get married, I could!"

"But you're _not_ married yet, Ike!" Kyle protested. "You're only engaged!"

"Kyle, in case you haven't noticed, I'm twenty years old! I have a right to know who you love!"

"And Ike, in case _you_ haven't noticed, I'm twenty-_five_, and you have a privilege, _not_ a right."

"But what's the big deal, anyway?" Ike asked, sprawled on the couch now.

Kyle grabbed the pile of laundry and moved to the lounge chair, then pulling one of his sweaters from underneath Ike's body.

"I'm not telling you about my love life," Kyle replied calmly. "Goddammit, if only you could have just _stayed_ in University with all your friends."

"Kyle, I told you," he explain sitting up. "Our professor died, so everyone in that class got 1 week off until they could find a replacement. And since Flora, Kindergoth, his name is really Vic, and Filmore are in that class with me, and _they're_ having time off too, I invited them to the wedding with us at mum's summer home off California."

Kyle stopped his business and looked at the corner of the room with a pondering expression. "Who's Flora again?"

"My fiancee, you dumbass!" Ike shouted. "We've been going out for a year-and-a-half!"

"Oh, yeah." Kyle continued his folding.

As Kyle continued, there was a silence in the room. Kyle didn't mind in the least; he loved silence. Ike, of course, despite how intelligent he was, enjoyed a little noise. Ike began tapping his hands on his thighs to the drum beat of 'Slipped Away' by Avril Lavigne. Kyle was oblivious to which song he was doing, but he needed to get this laundry done. He still had to fold the whites which were still downstairs. Then Ike started to softly sing the first part of the song to himself, but loud enough for Kyle to still hear it.

"_Na, na_," Ike sang. "_Na, na na, na, na_."

At this, Kyle immediately shoved one of the towels in his face and bent over.

"Come on, Kyle," Ike said. "It's a good song, don't act like your so..."

But Ike was stopped in his sentence. He stopped talking when he noticed Kyle's shoulders begin to shake and the muffled sound sniffling was heard.

"Kyle?" Ike asked cautiously stepping in. "Are you okay?"

No answer, but his sniffling turned into light sobs.

"Kyle, why are you crying?"

Ike's older brother rose his head and brushed the soft towel across his reddened eyes.

"It's that song," Kyle explained, sadness still clinging to his voice. "It just reminds me of mum and dad."

"Oh, shit, Kyle I didn't mean it!"

Kyle returned his face to the towel as Ike sat on the chair's arm and began to rub his back. Ike's hand travelled to the other side of Kyle's arm in a warm hug. Kyle let go of the towel and hooped his arms around Ike's body. Ike closed his eyes and began to shush him softly.

"It's okay, Kyle, it's okay," he shushed, hating to see his brother so upset. "Both of them know what you're doing for me, taking care of me, getting a job, keeping up the house. They're so happy for what you're doing right now, you have no idea."

Kyle wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his arm and held onto Ike's shoulders looking into his silver-grey eyes. Of course, they looked nothing like mom _or_ dad's considering one of them had green eyes and one of them brown, but I guess it was a plus for Kyle so that he wouldn't get as choked up looking at someone who looked like either of his deceased parents.

"You're such a good brother, Ike," Kyle said to him wiping away a single tear on Ike's cheek with his thumb. "I know I've said that a million and one times, but you know I mean it."

"I know," Ike smiled. "So will you tell me who you're in love with?"

"Nope."

Kyle, throwing the sweater and towel, that were now dirty, through the open basement door, grabbed the basket of folded laundry and made his way upstairs.

"Oh, come on!" Ike groaned. "You promised me!"

"I was kidding, Ike," Kyle replied on his way up the stairs.

"But you said you would!"

"I was 17, Ike," Kyle reminded, stopping in mid-step. "I was stupid to have told you something that would have kept your hopes up. Now forget about that. I want you to finish packing upstairs. Our flight to California leaves in 3 hours and we need to be at the Denver Airport by 2."

"Ugh, fine!"

* * *

**Chapter I: Honey, Honey**

"Jesus Christ, it's been too long," Kyle said almost to himself as he placed his bags on the docks.

Down the docks was a small hilly island. On one side of the island was a stone house. It was painted white, though it was chipped, and every square hole on the wall (prehistoric window) was covered with sky-blue painted shutters, which also had chipped paint. The stone shingles on the roof that were rusty brown really brought out the blue in the shutters and the magenta flowers that vined the canopies on the stone porches that outlooked the Pacific Ocean. At sunset with the breeze against your back and the turning of the waves with a flower delicately placed in your hair, it was the perfect ending to any day. Although it was in not-so-perfect shape, it was so beautiful and romantic. With the money that Kyle's family had collected with his dad being a lawyer and such, he began to keep up payment for this summer home shortly after they payed off the house. Now that both the summer home and the house in Colorado were fully paid off, Kyle's job drew plenty of money for food and the other bills and such. The only thing he wasn't looking forward to was cleaning up this place for Ike's wedding. Sure, there were workers that helped out with the vineyard outside and the clothes and the dishes and everything else who worked for cheap, but Kyle was in charge of making the house look real nice.

With a sigh, Kyle picked up his luggage and headed for the front door where he was greeted by the workers he passed. Ike was just getting off of the dock and not without a smile on his face. He could invision the sky purplish pink with him standing at the alter at the old chapel by the north of the island and Flora in a thin white laced dress riding in on a horse. And along the way, candles would be lit. It would look so beautiful. Anything for Flora. All that romantic crap _was_ her idea.

He was about to head into the front door behind Kyle until he heard the sound of a loud motor skipping across the waves accompanied by the sound of screaming 20-year-olds.

"Yo, Ike!" one of them yelled. "IKE!"

"Hey, guys!" Ike shouted back running to the end of the dock where the boat would 'park.'

Once the boat was tied to the dock to prevent drifting, the driver of the boat and the passenger, Ike's friends from University, Filmore and Vic, hopped off of the boat and ran to Ike. Filmore hoisted himself on Ike's shoulder's rustling his hair while Vic grabbed the bags from the boat.

"Woo-hoo!!" Filmore cheered into the afternoon sky as loud as he could. "Ike's getting married to the finest piece of ass in Colorado!!"

"Filmore, shut you mouth!" Ike laughed, lightly pushing Filmore off of him. He walked to Vic giving him a hug and helping him with his bags.

"So where the hell have you guys been?" Ike asked wrapping an arm around Filmore's neck. "I thought you'd get here hours ago."

"Well, _someone_ left the tickets on the kitchen table," Vic answered darkly shifting his head to Filmore.

"So, where _is_ sweet-ass Flora?" Filmore asked, also placing his arm around Ike's shoulder.

"How's your brother?" Vic asked. "Kyle must be slitting his wrists over this wedding."

"Yeah, he's pretty stoked," Ike answered, a bit disturbed by Vic's choice of words. "But there's something else I have to tell."

Ike uncoiled himself from Filmore's arm and stood next to the two. "And it's a secret and I can only tell _you_ guys."

"You have AIDS?!" Filmore joked.

"No, I don't have AIDS!" Ike laughed punching his arm. "I invited Kyle's ex-boyfriend to the wedding."

"Oh, you mean the one that he's still in love with?"

"That's the one."

"So, you found him at last?" Vic asked.

"No, not exactly," Ike answered pulling out a small book. "Look what I found in Kyle's desk!"

"Kyle! You're not supposed to snoop around through your brother's diary, that's just creepy!" Filmore said.

"No, listen to what it says," Ike protested opening the book.

In the book were three folded pages, each ripped out.

"Each entry on these three pages are undated and out of order, clearly, so I'm unaware of which comes first. Listen to this one..."

Ike read aloud. "What a night. After the show, Stan rode me over to the little island. We danced on the beach and kissed on the beach and... dot dot dot."

"What the hell is 'dot dot dot'?" Vic asked.

"It means they fucked," Filmore answered nonchalantly.

"Thank you, Filmore," Ike said, slightly annoyed.

"So that means Stan is the one that Kyle still loves."

"Probably, but it says that shortly after, he left to go get married to this Wendy girl."

"Ass hole!"

"Kay, keep listening," Ike ordered, flipping the page to read the next. "What a night! Then after the show, Christophe rented a motorboat and I took him over to the little island. One thing led to another and... dot dot dot."

"Christophe?" Vic asked. "A Frenchie?"

"Yes, a Frenchie!" Ike repeated, slightly offended because of his French Canadian heritage. He returned to the next page. "What a night. Gregory turns up out of the blue so I said I'd show him the little island. I must need my head examined. But he was so sweet I couldn't help it and...  
"Dot dot dot!" Vic and Filmore shouted together.

"Yes!" Ike answered. "The love of my brother's life has a name... well, _three_ names, Stan, Christophe, or Gregory."

"And they're all arriving for the wedding?" Vic asked.

"Yes!"

"Well, do they know?"

"Well, no. What do you write to a total stranger? Hello, come to my wedding, my brother might be in love with you," Ike laughed. "No, they think Kyle sent the invitations. And after what I read in here, I'm not surprised all of them said yes."

"Oh my God, Ike," Filmore sighed with a smile. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes, I'm sure! I want my brother to be happy again. Ever since mum and dad died, he hasn't been the same. And you _CAN'T_ tell Kyle about this. So help me God, if I find out any of you told him, I'll kick you square in the nuts."

"Okay, okay, jeez! But Kyle's gonna find them sooner or later."

"Well, I'm not gonna have Kyle frighten them off before I get to know them. And once I do, I'll figure out who is Kyle's type. I know these things. I'll figure out who he is almost right away!"

"And what if you don't?" asked Vic.

"Then I've got 24 hours to do so!"

The three friends run into the house, laughing and shouting.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Money, Money, Money**

Off of the next boat that docks off the island walk two 25-year-old men. They appear to be good friends, since they carried each others luggage. One of the men has faded blue jeans with a rip and a chain looping from his pocket to his belt loop. He has a bright orange t-shirt on and brown cotton wrist bands. The friend he walks off with has a light blue T-shirt that looks a bit shrunk. The sleeves are short as well as the hem, showing a small bit of the stomach. He had faded short jean shorts with small rips. He almost looked like a more innocent version of his friend, especially with his pink and blue flip flops. Most of this man's luggage had little 'Hello Kitty' stickers on them.

"Dude," Kenny said. "You really oughta take off those Hello Kitty stickers. People are starting to look."

"Well, I don't give a rat's behind!" Butters snapped. "Well, uh, I like my Hello Kitty. She's all soft and fluffy."

"Well, look what the tide's washed in!" Kyle said loudly walking to his friends.

"For one night!" Kenny began.

"And one night only!"

"KYLE AND THE KOSMOS!" They all cheered, leaping in the air and bumping their asses.

Once they had landed, they all hugged and patted backs and rustled hair. When Kyle went to university, he, Butters, and Kenny all took one of the same classes: music; vocal. One of their major assignments was to create an original album with at least 12 original songs. The three boys teamed up and called themselves 'Kyle and the Kosmos.' Even after their 4th year was done, they decided to make 'K&K' official. They had concerts for a while, but then called it quits after they turned 24, seeing as Kyle had to take care of Ike. Every now and again they get together and have a little dance and song party. Kyle and the Kosmos were gonna perform at Ike's bachelor party, do a couple of songs, not before their drinks, of course. Ike, not being a homophobic, and loving his brother to death, was more than obliged to have Kyle, Kenny, and Butters sing at his party. Whenever Ike would ask about Kyle and the Kosmos, Kyle would quickly change the subject. Kyle said he would try to bring the guys back together and sing at his bachelor party. This was one promise he intended on keeping.

"So how's the brother of the groom?" Kenny asked.

"Oh, all the better seeing you two here," Kyle replied smiling. "Jesus Christ, Butters, I haven't seen you since the Kosmos' last show."

"Well, uh, I got grounded for starting a homo-erotic boy band," Butters replied skidding his sole on the dock's wood.

"Oh, I see. Well, I don't exactly envy my mom and dad for keeping up with this place. My mom was almost constantly on the phone with the bank manager arguing with him."

"I pity the banker," Kenny laughed.

"KENNY!" Ike shouted from the other end of the island.

Ike ran as fast as he could, not caring that his flip flops flew off behind him, the bottom of his jeans were getting dusty, and his slightly unbuttoned shirt was flapping, exposing his naval. He ran to Kenny with open arms and leaped onto his body wrapping his arms around his chest and his legs around his waist. Kenny accepted this explosive sign of happiness and wrapped his own arms around Ike's back spinning him around laughing.

"I knew you wouldn't let me on this island for one second without an Ike brand hug!" Kenny laughed hard.

Ike leaped off of Kenny's body and gave Butters a tight hug that almost made him cringe in pain. Kyle tilted his head and rested his cheek on his hand, enjoying Ike's love for his own friends.

"Oh, look at my little sweetie," Kyle teased pinching Ike's cheek. "Getting so old."

"Cut it out," Ike chuckled wiping away his hand. "I'm getting married, not joining a foreign legion."

"At least not _again_."

The two brothers laughed at this; inside joke.

"And I was taught not to get married at 20, anyhow," Kyle said.

"No," Kenny joked. "We were taught not to get married full stop! Less commitment, more fucky!"

Kyle couldn't help but laugh, but to maintain his role model-esque image, he gave Kenny a slight slap on the arm.

"A white wedding," Kyle smiled, shaking his head at Ike. "I don't know where you get it from."

"Sorry, you can blame me, Kyle," Flora said popping up from behind Ike. "It was my idea."

Ike was a bit surprised when Flora popped out of what seemed to be nowhere. But he quickly turned around and gave her a quick but deep kiss on her soft pink lips. Kyle held Flora by her shoulders and pulled her in to introduce her to his friends.

"Guys," Kyle began, as if he were the emcee on opening night of a Broadway show. "Introducing the leading lady at tomorrow's do, Flora." Flora shook their hands with 'hello's and 'pleased to meet you's. Kyle, once again, had to slap Kenny because he couldn't keep his eyes off Flora's ass when she turned to say 'hi' to Butters. "Uhh, _anyways_, Flora, this is Kenny and Butters my one time backing band and all time best friends."

"Hey, 'sup y'all?" Token greeted.

Everyone turned their heads and saw Clyde and Token begin to walk toward them. Token had topaz bathing shorts and a dark purple button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled the buttons undone to his abs. His hair was in dreadlocks and waved in the wind. Clyde had grey bathing shorts with a dark red Abercrombie shirt. While walking behind Token, the wind brushed his messy bangs in front of his eyes to which he wiped to the side of his face and continued to walk.

"Oh, you guys know Token and Clyde," Kyle introduced. "They run the bar over on the beach on the other side of the house. They're the bar staff, waiters, boatsmen, general help. Only generally, they're no help at all." He turned to the two. "Aren't... you supposed to be... doing something right now?"

And with a "Sir, yes, Sir!" the two helpers were off, pushing each other and laughing.

"And in the meantime," Kenny began. "Someone should take care of that crappy 'cruise' ship over there. Someone oughta sink it."

"Sink it?" Flora asked.

"Yeah, it's a bit of an eyesore."

"No, no one's sinking anything," Kyle ordered. "Ike and I are gonna turn that boat into a floating casino; a millionaire's paradise!" He turned to Ike and Flora. "Could you two be a hand and put the bags of balloons on the boat."

Flora hopped on Ike's back and slapped his rear making him run into the house.

"Wow," Butters said. "A nice cozy little boat where you can gamble under the stars. Now, uh, that's just neato."

"It sure _is_gonna be neato," Kyle chuckled. "This could be my jackpot. One of these days I could use a vacation."

"Well, hey, Kyle," Kenny said. "Everyone could use a vacation. Maybe you wouldn't need this jackpot if you had your eyes set on a rich guy."

"Well, ya! But I'm no gold digger. But ya, anyone could use a vacation to Las Vegas or Mamaco, or some other exotic destination. If I had that much money, I would just use it on whatever I wanted and I'd just have a ball!".

"Oh totally!" Kenny agreed. "Hell, I'd try to find some hot rich chick."

"Or guy."

"_Or_ guy," Kenny nodded. "And so would Butters."

"Yeah, wait what?!" Butters shouted. "Fellas, I ain't gay!"

"I don't know, Butters," Kenny teased. "Your shorts and shirt tell me a different story."

"Guys, come on," Kyle sighed. "Let's just get back to work. We need to realize that the rich get kissed and the poor get kicked. Let's face it. It's a rich man's world."


	3. Mamma Mia, Thank You For the Music!

**NOTE:**** Wow! I didn't realize how much you liked this story. Maybe this will turn out like 'Being Alive' and get some really good hits. You all know what to do. Tell me what you think about the chapter. R&R!**

* * *

**Chapter III: Mamma Mia, Thank You for the Music!**

Later that afternoon, the breeze picked up. That was a good thing. There's nothing worse than a hot day with no wind. It's like a cone without ice cream or a video game system without the controllers; it simply doesn't work. It's also good for the sailors. Those sailors that don't use the motor boats but use the ships with the sails. This ship on the water didn't seem to be a _ship_ ship, because, well, it really isn't. Think of a big motor boat, only no motor and a big sail. That's about the picture. And it was a _good_-looking boat too. It was pearly white with a smooth wooden finish around the edges. The sail was tight and firm letting the wind push it to the Broflovski summer island.

The boat drove up to the dock and anchored. Three men hopped over the ladder and leaped onto the deck taking a good whiff of the salty, fresh air and a gander at the marvelous Greek-style getaway before themselves. These three young men were the exact people Ike was expecting: Stan, Christophe, and Gregory.

Christophe was rough around the edges, but this was one of his most attractive qualities along with his French dialog, his stubble, and his trademark cigarette that loosely dangles between his lips. Gregory is almost the opposite of Christophe. He had these cream slacks that looked way too expensive for his own good along with his fancy orange button-up and his neck-long beach-blonde hair that came out in waves behind his head with few strands of his bangs dangling in front of his eyes. Then there was Stan. Because he was standing next to these very unique characters, he looked plain, but Stan was anything _but_plain. He had the emotional ability to be someones everything, and that person was Wendy. He had married her a few years back after the night he had made love to Kyle. He ran off of the island as fast as he could trying to escape his feelings. He had been best friends with Kyle for as long as either of them could remember, and he had deeper feelings for him. He was already engaged to Wendy, so if he wanted _their_ relationship to work, Stan had to leave now. But ever since Stan had been remembering Kyle as of a few months ago, he thought that maybe his feelings for him shouldn't be hidden anymore.

"I'm glad to have gotten off that boat," Gregory said holding his stomach, holding back the chunks.

"Oh, zat's nossing," Christophe said with a gruff French accent, patting Gregory's back. "You should try a kayak in zee Okanama swamps."

"Oh, yes! I read your book, 'A Bloak in a Boat in Botswana'."

"Oh, yes, I heard I'd sold a copy somewhere."

"Next to gay rights, travel books are my passion," Gregory stated with a hand to his heart. "A distraction from the horrors of the London Underground."

"You guys wanna hear something really kick-ass?" Stan asked. "Do you see this taverna..."

"I'm rather impressed. I remembered an old hut here. I was dreading bedding down with the goats."

"Oh, give me goats over fucking camels," Christophe cussed. "Zere was zees time in zee Kalahari when zee sun was beating down and we..."

"All right, all right!" Stan cut in waving his hands. "Sorry to spoil the travel log, Indiana! The point is that this is my taverna, well, it's not exactly _mine_, but it might as well be. Mrs. Broflovski said I could come here whenever I felt like it. Well, _she_ didn't say it, but her son said I could when he took over."

"Who?"

"Well, Kyle. Who else?"

"I have never been to any fancy summer home. I've been living out of a rucksack most of my life."

"... You're a hobo?"

"Do you think the island would inspire some prose?" Gregory asked, trying to stop a could-be fight once he saw Christophe give him the eye.

"I hope so," Christophe answered. "When I go back I want to sell my editor a piece on childhood haunts revisited."

"You weren't born here."

"_Non_, I was born and raised in Rouen, France, but my great aunt lives in California. Zee last time I visited her was... 6 years ago."

"So now you can write about this lovely home, and the tourists will flock..."

"_Non_, I sink zees place should always be zee secret idyll zat I always remembered."

"Well if you _were_ born here," Stan said. "Maybe the idyll would be boatloads of tourists with pockets full of money!"

"Well at least they might have some staff then," Gregory admitted observing the current state of this place. "Where is everybody?"

"Hi," Ike said running to the dock with a smile. "Can I help you?"

Ike may have heard their names in the book, but he had no idea what they looked like. He hadn't seen Stan for such a long time, he didn't even remember he had that raven-black hair or ocean-blue eyes.

"I'm Christophe," the Frenchman introduced removing his cigarette to stomp it out and replace it. "You have a room for me?"

Ike couldn't believe it. "C-Christophe?"

"I'm Gregory," Gregory greeted shaking his head. "I graduated from Yardale with a four-o grade point average."

"Gregory!" That was two of them. He turned to Stan and reconized him immediately. "Holy shit, Stan..."

"Hey, Ike, little dude, what's up?" Stan laughed. "Er, you were expecting us?"

"Yes. Yes, of course," Ike laughed nervously. "I'll get the keys."

Ike ran into the house faster than he could spell the word. Keep in mind Ike was a genius.

"Well I hope I get the chance to get my hands on some California beach shells to give to my mother," Gregory said observing the beaches.

"Oh yeah?" Stan asked.

"I haven't been off the coast of California in 6 years."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! 6 years? You know, this is beginning to sound a bit like a set up. Well, now, Christophe, here's a story for you. Friends, 3 men, strangers receive an invitation to a wedding. They're invited to a place they haven't visited for 6 years, by a guy they haven't seen for 6 years. Why are they here?"

"Zat's not bad!" Christophe said now taking notes. "Hey, Gregory what's your excuse? What's torn you away from Presidential chair of gay pride?"

"Is this an interview?" Gregory asked sarcastically, then taking it seriously. "Well for me Kyle's invitation brought back many happy memories." He turned his head for a slight second only to see a guitar hung up on the wall of the home by the strap. "Gordon Bennet!"

"Is that a quote?" Christophe asked raising his eyes from his pen and pad.

"I know that guitar!" Gregory ran to the home and pulled it off the wall. He brought it back to the guys shaking his head remembering the happy moments. He read the front of the instrument. "H.B. 'Head Banger.' That's what they called me a few years back! And K.B. Kyle Broflovski. I bought this for him. Ten quid and my Timmy & the Lords of the Underworld T-Shirt! So now who says I'm an unadventurous old stick in the mud."

"Who says that?" Stan asked.

"My other half. Perhaps a fast car and a season ticket to 'Chelsea' isn't enough for some people. They want the great white hunter too. Well, I can do spontaneity. Alright, that's why I'm here. Kyle knew my wild side. I was on my sixth form trip to Paris. And I just followed him to Colorado." Gregory rolled up his pants and removed his footwear so that his feet could soak in the familiar California waves. He held the guitar to play it. "Spontaneously!" Gregory added to the last bit of his speech. Then he remembered a soothing tune and began to play it.

Gregory got to a really sensitive spot on Kyle. He knew almost everything about him and the same vice-versa. Greg and Kyle were not two for keeping secrets. Gregory thought about all of this and was smiling because he was happy to finally be on the same piece of land that Kyle was in such a long time.

"I got the keys!" Ike called running back to the dock. Once Gregory got another good look at Ike, he stood up immediately.

"You," he said. "You're Kyle's little brother."

"Well, yeah, how did you know?"

"Now zat I sink about it," Christophe said tapping his cigarette to relieve itself of lingering ashes. "You _do_look a lot like Kyle's younger adopted brother. It must be you. Who could forget zose silver eyes? But where _is_ Kyle. I wanted to thank him for remembering me and inviting me; remembering _all_ of us."

"No, you can't! It's super-secret! I sent the invitations myself. He can't know about it!"

"But why not?" Gregory asked.

"Because... Kyle's always talking about his friends from high school and during spring break during University and I thought he'd just be thrilled if I invited you all. But then... he's got himself in such a state about this wedding, and he's not expecting guests, and he'll hyper ventilate!"

"But, Ike, does that mean?" Stan began, not able to find himself to say the words. "So what you're saying is that Kyle didn't invite us?"

"NO! But if he sees you, just say you're all on vacation or something."

"But, err..." Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted. "You've made a _big_ mistake... Oh, God_dammit_! Ike, you don't understand. The last time I saw Kyle, he said he never wanted to see me again."

"But that was _years_ ago! And I want you _here_!"

"Why?!"

"Because..." Uh-oh. "Uh, who better at my wedding than an old family friend?"

"Oh, you little son-of-a-bitch! You're worse than your brother! You better stay away from my boys or else they'll rub off."

"Wait-what? Boys? You have children?"

"Yes, _two_! I was thinking of bringing them here one day."

"Like you used to bring Kyle?"

Stan's eyes widened. Gregory slowly came between them as to avoid someone getting slapped in the face or pushed into the surf.

"Soo..." he began. "Would there be a trouser press on the island?"

"Uh, I'll bring you to your rooms."

Ike began to walk down the dock with his head down until his head was forced backwards by someones chest he had walked into.

"Oh, Ike, didn't see you there," Kyle said catching his breath. "Sorry I walked into you."

"Kyle?" Gregory asked himself aloud.

"He... Gregory!"

"Allo, Kyle," Christophe saluted.

"Christophe!!"

"What's up, Kyle?" greeted Stan.

"... _YOU!_" Kyle shouted in a dark voice pointing at Stan's nose. Kyle fell on his ass and tried to keep his head on. "I'm dreaming, aren't I? You're not really here!"

"Do you need a hug?"

"You keep your hands to yourself!"

"Well, _you_ seemed to have changed your tune!"

"Well what the hell are you doing here, Stan? Why are any of you here?" Kyle toned himself down, and tried _not_to sound like a loony bird in a nut house. He breathed. "Sorry, I'm just amazed to see you all!"

"Well I'm doing an article for a magazine," Christophe told Kyle shaking his pad and pen.

"And I'm here for a holiday," Gregory chimed in.

"And I thought I'd just drop in," Stan said with a cute smile. "Say 'Hi'."

"Shame!" Kyle said with an overly obvious 'tsk'. "We don't have any rooms - it's that time of the year."

"Just as well I booked ahead!"

"Well this is so inconvenient!"

"Why?" Christophe queried.

"Because... because..." Kyle stammered. "... One of the local boys is getting married tomorrow. And I just don't have the staff to cope with you all. You'd be so much more comfortable... on the mainland?"

"Oh no, no. Not at all," Stan said. "Christophe here's used to roughing it for his art. And old head-banger over there is the last word in spontaneous!"

"What about you?"

"Me? Well, I came back to see the island and um..."

"Yeah well," Kyle inched towards the home door. "I'd love to stop and chat and er..chew over old times but I have to go and ..er... clean out my handbag... or something!"

And in an instant Kyle sped into the front door and left the three men to themselves. Stan shook his head and smiled bigger than he had for a very long time.

"He's still got it."

And at that moment, Stan realized it _was_ true. He loved Kyle.


	4. My Chiquitita, the Dancing Queen

**NOTE: I just wanna say,before I get the chapter started, that I'm getting a lot of positive feed back from you guys. Tsk, you make me feel so special :). I've given up on 'Dead Lard' for a while cause I find it boring. Anyhow, here's the next chapter, you know the drill: R&R! Don't forget to tell other fanfic'ers!**

**NOTE 2: Sorry if you think this chapter is short. I think it's short, but I'm trying my best to song fic at least two songs per chapter, in case you haven't noticed by the titles. Once again, let me know what you think.

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**

**Chapter 4: My Chiquitita, the Dancing Queen**

As soon as Kyle got his ass in the home, he slammed the door behind him with a wooden thud and leaned his back against it with his face to the sky and his eyes squinted in frustration. Slowly, while bringing his clenched fists to his face, he slid down the door until he was sitting on the cold and cracked concrete banging his head against the wood behind him. He shortly stopped when his head had hit a bolt in the door, after which he decided to try and pull his hair out instead while grunting something about stupid men and sex and life and the past. He wasn't crying, he was just really pissed off at the moment. He brought his legs up and rested his arms on his knees, letting his head hang loose with a depressed ex hail. Kyle had the littlest idea of what to do. His life was near perfect just him and Ike and no one else in the world. Then out of the blue three men that he's had intimate relationships with suddenly arrive _trying_to ruin his life. He tried his very best to forget about each and every one of them, but the truth was, he still had a spot in his heart for all of them. He was devastated when all three of the relationships had to be broken off, and he's felt blue ever since. He eventually forgot about it and went on with his life raising Ike on his own and getting a good job. When they came along, it brought all of it back, and he knew very well that he would have to confront them and have a nice long talk.

_But why here?! Why now?!_

* * *

Kenny and Butters really liked this place. It was exotic. Like travelling across the world when really they're only travelling half way across the country. The staircase they had to walk up was all stone and narrow with holes in the walls as windows. It spiraled along what seemed to be a short tower. When they arrived at their assigned room, there was only one bed. As desperate as Kenny was for a piece of ass, he wasn't willing to get in the same bed with _this_ child. Sure, they were best friends and all, but Kenny decided not to let any sexual tension get between them. Not that he _would_ have any with Butters, but he didn't know what Butters did at _his_ sleep-overs.

"Okay," Kenny began plopping his leather bag onto the bed. The springs cringed with rusted age. "I get the bed."

"Now, uh, hold on there just a burger-flippin' second," Butters said quickly. This was his form of cussing. Only occasionally would you hear him say 'shit'. "Now, uh, I think it needs to be decided fairly on wh-who gets the bed.

"You know what? You'e right, Butters," Kenny agreed, playing along. "This should be decided..." He pulled out a quarter. "In a coin-toss."

"Neat-o!" Butters said, enjoying any way, shape, or form of a game.

"Okay."

Kenny placed the coin on his clenched fists and flicked up his thumb sending the coin heaven-ward, flipping and spinning like a diamond star. It finally landed in Kenny's open hand, revealing the wide-spread wings of the American bald eagle.

"I call tails!" Kenny said, even after viewing the coin.

"Oh, son-of-a-bear paw!" Butters cursed, thinking he lost the game.

Kenny snicked and began to unpack while Butters pulled out the blow-up mattress from underneath and nearly blew his lungs into the small hole.

"Breathe, Butters, breathe!" Kenny laughed.

Butters gave up and sat on his own suitcase. "Well, can you believe it, Ken?"

"Hmm?"

"Well, uh, Kyle, and all. His brother is gettin' married to a pretty little lady."

"And the weird thing is, I don't think Ike is in it for the ass. I think he really wants to start a family. You know, have... _kids_... Ugh, no thanks!"

"Well, dag nabbit, I can't remember how many times I've tried to get myself some pussy," Butters said sounding pretty serious. Kenny had to bite his tongue. "I go to clubs and stuff but, uh, nothing seems to work."

"It's okay, Butters, you'll find someone one day."

Butters nodded, trying his best to paste it in his mind that there was a woman out there who would love a guy like him. Someone who wouldn't mind if he dressed too flamboyantly or still had that child-esque charm to him. And Butters, being so gullible, let himself believe it.

Butters figured it was finally time to unpack his bags. He began to unlock the golden cube connected to the pink zipper. He began to sing the Unpacking Song. It went to the tune of This Old Man

_"Now it's time_

_To unpack_

_Pray for troopers_

_In Iraq_

_Take your bags for what they're worth;_

_Troops at war just sleep in dirt."_

Butters was about to sing the second verse when he saw something under the bed that caught his eye. He pulled it out and blew off the dust that lingered to its old black exterior. He lifted it open letting dust seep out and crawl on the floor. After he coughed and waved the air around his face, he looked at what the trunk contained. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He stood up and began to hop from foot to foot, squealing with delight.

"Oh Jeez! Oh Jeez!" he screamed.

"What the hell is it, Butters?" Kenny asked.

"Look at this!" Butters replied reaching into the trunk.

He pulled out a big piece of paper and revealed it to Kenny. Kenny didn't squeal like a little pussy, but his eyes did widen and his jaw did drop.

"Holy shit!" Kenny exclaimed.

What the paper was was an advertisement for one of Kyle and the Kosmos' concerts. It was brilliantly yellow in the back with what looked like orange bubbles. Then there was Kyle in the front, Kenny behind him, followed by Butters, each body slightly positioned to the right so that everyone could be seen. The bodies on the poster were tinted magenta. The boys that were in the poster were smiling like children on Christmas; microphones in their left hands and their right arms directed to the air, pointing. All three dressed in nearly skin-tight outfits. The only part of the costume that didn't touch the skin were the bottoms of the pants and the sleeves which flapped open like bells. There were thick patterns that swerved on the boys' chests and arms and legs. Each boys' pattern was the same just differently colored. Kyle's being green, Kenny's being orange, and Butters' sky blue. "Kyle and the Kosmos" it said in pink lettering outlined with white and yellow in psychedelic font.

Looking at this old page of Kenny's book of memory nearly brought a tear to his eye, but instead, he laughed his ass off, wanting to hug Butters for finding this article of history. He held the poster for himself and got a good look of how he looked all those years ago.

"We look _so_ young," Kenny reminisced.

"We sure did," Butters agreed. Butters got all excited. "Well, I can't wait to perform for Ike and his friends tonight!"

"Neither can I!" Kenny said pulling out their costumes from the trunk.

The boys laughed and fell on the bed, loving what feeling the memories sunk into them. The two were slightly startled at the sound of the rusted hinges of the door grumbling open to reveal Kyle in a state. He stopped in his tracks and noticed that Kenny and Butters' faces were tomato-red from laughing.

"What's so funny?" Kyle asked, not smiling.

"Look what Butters found," Kenny replied.

Butters raised up the poster with a 'Ta-da!'.

"Well, uh, I think you should put it at the bar," Butters suggested. "So that everyone knows we're performing."

"No!" Kyle shouted grabbing the poster and rolling it up fiercely. "This piece of shit should be burned! Ripped to shreds!"

"Kyle, no!" Butters proteseted taking away the piece of memory.

"Kyle, you loved K&K," Kenny reminded, confused with Kyle's outrage. "What's wrong?"

"This has to be a joke," Kyle stressed wiping sweat from his forehead. "Soon I'll wake up and it'll all just be one stupid dream!"

Kyle collapsed on the bed and buried his face in a pillow wanting all of this to just go away.

"What's wrong, Kyle?" Butters asked.

"Nothing! Leave me alone. I can't talk about it." Kyle lifted his head. "I knew this would happen! All my life it's just been tapping me on my shoulder. Of course it was gonna come out now. It had to. Oh God, why was I such a stupid little idiot?"

"Kyle," Kenny began placing a hand on his back and beginning to rub it. "You know you can tell us what's wrong. We're your best friends. I've honestly never seen you this upset. You should be happy; the wedding's tomorrow."

"Ya, Kyle," Butters agreed. "If you're feeling all bummy, well, you just tell us and we can do our best to make you feel better. That's what we're here for."

Kyle wiped the tears from his eyes and sat up giving small smiles to his friends.

"It's my ex," he replied.

"Awkward," Kenny chimed. "Which one?"

"All three."

"Jesus Christ. _All_ of them?" Kenny asked running to a window. "Where are they? I can't see them."

"The three men that I had the most sexual relationships with are all here at the same time! Why have they all turned up now? It's like some horrible trick of fate!"

"Do they know that the other guy has been with you?" Butters asked.

"No, I didn't tell any of the 3 who I've been with. I didn't think I'd _have_ to! But here they are, trying to ruin Ike's wedding!"

"I thought you weren't so keen about this wedding," Kenny said.

"I'm _not_ going to let them spoil it! I've done fine on my own without three sexy men! I've had my share of each of them for a good amount of time. I don't need them anymore; I'm already muscled out by ejaculation!"

"You R-tard, you should have told us," Kenny said, smiling now that there are 3 hot available men on the island. "I heard that Christophe is a nice piece, huh?" He gazed out the window. "From the looks of it, if he slaps the monkey, it's safe to say that _that_'s a friggen _ape_!"

Butters, even though he was not one for inappropriate jokes, had to smile at this. It _was_ pretty funny.

"Laugh all you want," Kyle spat. "But this is my problem I have to deal with and at the worst of times. And I have to get rid of this problem now; I don't want Ike to think it's okay being a whore. I want him to live in a smug-free environment."

"Jesus Christ, you sound like your mom."

"I do _not_!"

"Yes you do! What happened to Kyle the life of the party and rock dude supremo?!"

"Nothing, he just grew up is all."

"Well, uh, I think you should get your little butt down there," Butters insisted with force. "You haven't done anything to be ashamed of."

Kyle took a good long look at his Kosmo outfit and smiled. "Except for _that_," he laughed.

"Get that on!" Kenny demanded jumping on the bed. "We got a show to do! The reunion concert of 'Kyle and the Kosmos'!"


	5. Lay All Your Love on a Super Trouper

**NOTE:****Guys, it really means a lot that you would take the time to read my crap, you really got me down here. (Sniffle, single tear :P) Anyhow, I'm still thinking about whether or not to do a Being Alive sequel, I might still need a few more voters. I know I've put off Mamma Mia for while, but I'm back on track! Don't stop loving! Check out my other stories, you might find them interesting! R&R!**

**NOTE:****If you're commenting, try your best not to rip me apart. This one person pointed out mistakes for EVERY chapter they reviewed, and it made a widdle sad :( . I know you mean well, thought ;D. Also, this one might be a little short, I apologize... So, enjoy!**

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**Chapter V: Lay All Your Love on a Super Trouper**

The sun was beginning set. Once again, an afternoon of absolutely perfect weather. The sun was inching toward the sapphire horizon, painting the sky a ruby-grapefruit. It could send someone into a comatose state of awe. Naturally, every girl would go head over heels for a view like this on an island as romantic as the one everyone else is on. Especially a girl like Flora, who simply adored sunsets. But Flora wasn't prepared to drop dead over a naturally occurring event that she could watch any day of the week. Flora was on her way to her bachelorette party; her final night of 'freedom.' That would be an excuse for a guy to go to a strip club, the whole freedom thing, but Flora had a feeling that once she tied the knot with Ike, she might not see her friends as often and spend most of her time loving Ike, owning a house, having children perhaps.

She walked the sands of the breath-taking island, letting the sand shift between her toes, letting her thin white dress wave delicately in the afternoons breeze. Raising her head and gazing into the soft sun, she let out a sigh of relief that if she were to be eternally with anyone, Ike would be the best bet any girl could make. He was super cute, highly intelligent, and amazing in bed. Who wouldn't die for a man like that?! He was sensitive and understanding and was always the person to talk to. Now that she thought about all of this, she was almost tempted to skip her own bachelorette party to sneak to Ike's karaoke stag and snake him from behind. She knew just as well that Ike wouldn't have any disagreement with the snaking and the loving and the sneaking and such, but the two decided to keep it clean until the wedding was over, then it's off to the bedroom!

Then again... Over on the other side, they had some hot male dancers and as 'clean' as Flora wanted to remain, she couldn't miss out on this. With a bounce in her step, she skipped over the conch shell jetting from the earth and ran as fast as she could down the beach. But as fast as she was, she wasn't faster than Ike who quickly caught up to her.

"Hey you!" Ike giggled wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

"Oh, hi!"

"Where are _you_ off to?" He smiled.

"I'm off to my party; there are some hot dancers and Lizzie's got a bunch of singles."

"Hot, eh?"

"Well, uh, of _course_ not as hot as _you_, Ikey."

"Come on, Flora, don't go." He began to cradle her, rocking back and forth. "I'll skip my party if you skip yours."

"Ike, no, I don't wanna miss this party." She wiggled from his grasp with a slight whine, but with a hint that staying with him was utterly tempting, which it _was_. "This is my last night without the ball and chain, you know?"

"Ball and chain?" he asked, slightly offended. "Is that how you see it?"

"How I _see it_?" she asked back, stalling for a proper answer. "See it... Well, _I_ see it as the last day... before the best moments of my life begin... ?"

Ike stared into her brownie eyes with a stern expression, then quickly gave in and snuck in a swift smooch. "I know what you mean, babe. Same goes for my party."

Flora coiled her arms around Ike's waist. Her voice was caring. "Of course I wouldn't think of this as an imprisonment."

They embraced, letting their warmth soak into one another. They both turned to face the sun set.

"Hey, Flora?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you remember how I wanted to give my parents grandchildren?"

"Aww, hun, we've been through this a thousand times. I'm as sad as you are, but you have _me_, okay? I love you so much."

He released a warm sigh and allowed Flora to lean her head on his chest. Peaceful silence again.

"Flora?"

"Yeah?"

"When we finally tie the knot... you won't... leave me, will you?"

"What?!" She raised her head and looked at him like he was delusional. "Why the hell would I leave you?! You've turned my world upside down! Before we got engaged, I always thought that it would be really easy, but now that we're closer than ever, I get so protective when there's some other whore around you."

"Sweety, you have the right to punch as many girls in the nose who gets physical with me as you want. Just as long as you never leave my sight, you can kill a man, and I won't give two shits."

Suddenly Flora's girlfriends ran onto the rocks of the shores and onto the sand to meet her. Once they reached her they began to take off her top.

"Whoa, what are you doing?!" Flora laughed.

"It's tradition," Jane explained. "The last night before a marriage, the bride has to swim in the lake and look for a pearl. It charms the marriage and brings you and your lucky man good luck."

"Where I come from," Ike cut in. "We get wasted and sing karaoke. But the key is, you have to get so drunk that you'll forget about it the day after."

"Dummy, we're doing that too!"

The girls squealed and cheered and pulled Flora away. As her friends dragged her through the beach, Flora twisted her head and mouthed 'I love you' to Ike before being pulled behind the rocks and towards her party. Ike couldn't do anything but smile. His thoughts were quickly interrupted by Filmore on the stone porch of the house leaning over the cobblestone fence wailing with his hand waving over his head.

"Come on, Ike, they're about to start!"

"Oh, shit!" Ike began to sprint in the sand towards the home with a cloud of dust trailing behind him. Ike was not going to miss the reunion of Kyle and the Kosmos.

* * *

When Ike had finally reached the porch that outlooked the ocean, he looked behind himself and saw that the bloodied sun was nearly swallowed up by the onyx sea. The breeze was strong warm; perfect for a run on the beach. But not tonight. He looked on the stone floor. Chairs were scattered in a semi-orderly fashion all facing the glass double doors with a miniature stage in front of it. The glass of the doors had thick curtains to not reveal the glitter and gold of the Kosmo costumes and their bearers. Ike took his seat directly in front of the stage and between Vic and Filmore who nudged them with their elbows smiling like idiots. He looked around and noticed that the vine-wrapped wooden canopy also had Christmas lights coiled around the posts and through the squares which lit up a certain spot on the floor with a rainbow of colours. People were taking their seats and chuckling. Even the people controlling the stage lights in the back were murmuring with huge grins.

The lights all finally turned off and the audience began to cheer. The glass doors opened and closed quickly, giving the sight of three silhouettes taking their places on the stage. The sound of an amplified muffling was heard on the speakers. The sound of Butters' voice came then from the big black boxes.

"Well, uh, h-how we all doin?"

The audience responded positively with a huge cry of excitement.

"Well here you go! For one night and one night only, the Broflovski summer home is proud to present the fruitiest boys ever to hit the music scene!"

The audience laughed.

"Hey, speak for yourself Butters," Kenny cut in.

"A-hem! One night! One number! Cause I, uh, wanna get hammered and pound some pussy! Give it up for Kyle and the Kosmos!"

The light blared on like the moon and revealed the three boys in all their glory with proud smiles on their faces. Ike burst into peels of laughter. He was so happy. The audience finally died down awaiting them to begin. And in imitation of the poster, the Kosmos positioned themselves and pointed to the stars and began to sing their number 1 fav. Their harmony made Gods cry.

"_Super Trouper beams are gonna blind me,_

_but I won't feel blue_

_like I always do_

_'cause somewhere in the crowd there's you!_"

They began to do a small dance routine and the happy balad swam through the stereo, sending the crowd to their feet and whipping our their lighters to sway them from side to side. As Butters and Kenny continued their choreography from years ago, Kyle stepped forward and brought the mic to his chin.

"_I was sick and tired of everything_

_when I called you last night from Glasgow._

_All I do is eat and sleep and sing_

_wishing every show was the last show._

_So imagine I was glad to hear you're coming._

_Suddenly it feels alright._

_And it's gonna be so different when I'm on the stage tonight!_"

The chorus continued.

"_Tonight the Super Trouper lights are gonna find me,_

_shining like the sun._

_Smiling, having fun,_

_feeling like a number 1._

_Tonight the Super Trouper beams are gonna blind me,_

_but I won't feel blue_

_like I always do_

_'cause somewhere in the crowd there's you!_"

Ike and his friends placed their hands on their mouths and shouted as loud as they could, getting the rest of the guests roused up as Kyle stepped up once more.

"_Facing twenty-thousand of your friends,_

_how can anyone be so lonely?_

_Part of a success that never ends,_

_still I'm thinking about you only._

_There are moments when I think I'm going crazy._

_But it's gonna be alright._

_Everything will be so different when I'm on the stage tonight!"_

The Kenny and Butters rejoined the chorus.

"_Tonight the Super Trouper lights are gonna find me,_

_shining like the sun._

_Smiling, having fun,_

_feeling like a number 1._

_Tonight the Super Trouper beams are gonna blind me,_

_but I won't feel blue_

_like I always do_

_'cause somewhere in the crowd there's you!_"

"_So I'll be there when you arrive._

_The sight of you will prove to me I'm still alive._

_And when you take me in your arms_

_and hold me tight_

_I know it's gonna mean so much tonight._"

"_Tonight the Super Trouper lights are gonna find me,_

_shining like the sun._

_Smiling, having fun,_

_feeling like a number 1._

_Tonight the Super Trouper beams are gonna blind me,_

_but I won't feel blue_

_like I always do_

_'cause somewhere in the crowd there's you!_"

The music stopped and the people jumped and shouted for the amazing song, making the boys on stage feel great inside. Kyle felt the best. He wanted to feel this appreciated for so long. He looked amongst the people who where all so energetic. Then, little to his surprise, his eyes fell upon Stan, Gregory, and Christophe who were standing in the back and clapping.


	6. Gimme, Gimme, Gimme the Name of the Game

**NOTE:**** I know it's been a while since I last updated. But the only thing good about this is that no matter how long I waited, it still wasn't as long as the other people's stories who take MONTHS to update. Like, I read a good story, and it's incomplete, so I put it in my alert list and they don't even bother to update it.**

**IF YOU'RE NOT GONNA FINISH IT, SAY SO! X'O**

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**Chapter VI: Gimme, Gimme, Gimme the Name of the Game**

The music died out. The audience members began to form small groups and jump and squeal in praise of the performance with flustered faces and eyes glistening with joy. Some were even crying, having been Kosmos fans for years and years just itching for a revival concert. Some even ran up to the stage to shout praises at Kyle, Kenny and Butters. Ike exchanged 'That's my brother,' and 'Wasn't it great?' to his friends around him. He was even on his way to hug Kyle for being so awesome, but as soon as he was feet away from Kyle's dazzling bell bottoms, he noticed his face as stricken pale and cold sweat trickling down his forehead. He knew he wasn't feeling like himself. He rejoined his friends. Kenny and Butters even were giving out autographs with smiling faces, but Kyle couldn't do so much as hold the pen. He was too busy staring at Christophe, Gregory and Stan. His face went from dumbfounded, to just plain pissed. He leaped off of the stage, ignoring the steps, and stormed to the railing which all three of them were casually leaning on. Once Butters and Kenny spotted Kyle burning a trail on his way to the three men, they knew they couldn't just let him kill them. They flew off the stage and managed to get to the men first.

"Just what do you think you're doing here?" Kenny asked pointing his finger at each of them in a 'tsk-tsk-tsk' manner.

"Well, uh, this here party is already over, fellas," chimed Butters.

"You can't just barge in."

"No, sirree, you can't."

"I guess we're just gonna have to take your clothes off."

"Ya, I guess we -- WHAT?!"

"Come on, Butters, lighten up!"

Kenny hooks the collars of Christophe and Gregory with his fingers and pulls them into the glittered, neon clouds from the fog machine where the tearing of fabric and the rustling of chairs and tables were heard. Butter found himself looking into Stan's blue eyes.

"... Hiya, Stan."

Stan quickly, but not roughly, pushed Butters aside and walked into the smoke. Although he was swift, Stan was in no mood for sex tonight, even though Kenny looked like he was having fun with Christophe binding his wrists to two table legs. He suddenly felt his shirt being tugged on and dragged. When he was forced onto the dance floor he turned around and saw Ike. Ike began to shuffle from side to side with the rhythm of the music; another famous hit from the Kosmos, 'Gimme, Gimme, Gimme.' Stan caught on that Ike just wanted to have some fun and began to dance with him.

"Sorry I had to pull you out of that," said Ike.

"No, thank God you did," Stan replied. "Last time I was here it was so quiet. Now look at what's happened."

"So you regret coming?"

"No, no. I regret not knowing what I was in for," chuckled Stan.

"What, so you prefer buildings to people?"

"Huh?"

"Tell me something about my brother."

"Your brother?" Stan repeated, beginning to think; reminisce. "Well, he's irresistible." He began to chuckle again, remembering. "Oh, we nagged each other like we were an old married couple. Ya, we did everything. We talked, we fought, we... we did so much."

"That's not _all_ you did, was it?"

Stan stopped dancing. His face dropped dead-stone. "What's she told you?!"

"Nothing!" Ike began to panic. "Absolutely nothing! She never mentioned anything!"

Stan placed a hand on his face and turned around with a string of swears.

"Oh, shit," he cursed. "You even said that your brother never stops talking about his friends. What's going on, Ike? Why am I here?!"

"... Fuck..."

Ike spun and disappeared into the fog leaving Stan alone on the floor. Ike found himself rushing in clouds of colour and unfamiliar faces, but he didn't really know what he was running from. Well, he knew he was running from Stan, but... He just didn't know anymore. He found himself in a predicament he kind of wished he had never gotten himself into. But Ike had no idea that it was gonna get worse. He then bumped into a dark figure who turned around to reveal himself as Gregory.

"Fancy Kyle with a brother gettin' ready to be married, eh?" Gregory thought aloud.

"Gregory, are you still in love?"

"Well, of course I am! I have a loving partner at home."

Gregory began to shift to the music, the bright pink drink in his glass swishing like a mini whirlpool. Ike remained still.

"No," Ike continued. "I mean... Even though you _are_ married, someone else you might have feelings for."

"Well... Of course there _is_ one person that will always hold a piece of my heart, but my other half wouldn't fancy that, he wouldn't."

"Let's say you had the chance to switch the two people up. You'd be married to that person instead. Would you do it?"

"... I think I need another cosmo," Gregory once again thought aloud rushing to the bar.

Ike was left alone. A hand crept onto his shoulder and spun him around giving Ike a fright.

"Who's that?!"

"Eet eez just me," Christophe replied, undoing the cotton bondage on his wrists.

"Oh, shit, you scared me."

"I am so sorry. Um, may I be nosey? I am a noveleest, so eet eez in my territory."

"Um... Go on."

"Eef I told your brozzer somesing... personal... do you sink he would respond... positively?"

"It depends what that would be," responded Ike slowly, cautiously. "Take for instance, if you asked him if he still has the switch blade you let him borrow earlier today, or, I dunno, if he still might love you..."

"... What? ... Oh, jeez..."

Then he retreated into the darkness. Ike called after him. "Wait! I'm not 100 percent sure!"

Ike chased after Christophe as fast as he could. He looked all over the dance floor but couldn't find him. Fuck! He left. He buried his face in his hands. What did he do now? Now Christophe knows that Kyle might still love him. What if he really doesn't? Then he'll be let down. And being a traveller, he'll commit suicide not simply by shoe lace noose, but some place and some way cool, like getting swallowed by sharks off the coast of Australia, or suck on the goopy poisonous dew that spews out of the mouth of the South African Strylitcia.

But Christophe seems like the tough kind of guy. I mean, hey, anyone who can still look handsome with stubble and scars _must_ know something about staying stuff, right?

Ike continued to search. He peered over the stone wall and spotted a built silhouette leaning against on the rocks of the hill on which the house was planted. He carefully descended the stairs to the very bottom where the last white stone step met dusty-brown dirt, gravel, and grass. He took a few steps forward, still, of course, cautious that this dark form wasn't one belonging to a rapist stranger. But after he saw the ember-glow of a cigarette and the smell of cigarette, which was disgusting, but somehow smelt good, he knew instantly that this built shadow belonged to the Frenchman.

"Christophe?" asked the boy.

"I am sorry," responded the man. It was Christophe. "I just needed a breathe of air."

"We're on an island; you can't get fresher than that," joked Ike.

"... Christophe, do you still love my brother?"

"... I do not know."

"Yes you do!' Ike didn't get angry, only desperate for answers, but not pathetically desperate as you may think.

"Well, what deed your brozzer say?"

"She doesn't speak about the past much. She doesn't understand. But I need to know."

"Well you will have to speak to him."

"I can't! He doesn't need to know! Well, that's a lie, but this has become more than just his life and secrets, but about what he keeps from me altogether. He shouldn't need to keep secrets; I don't want any more secrecy!"

"Ike, this hasn't been my secret."

"Listen, Christophe... I don't know what's been going on lately. My mind's been spinning around, and it's been hell for me and much as it probably has been for you and my mom."

"Well, I must admeet, eet has been, dare I say, fun," Christophe laughed in his throat. Ike noticed his Adam's apple bobbing. Then he smiled; he hadn't noticed Christophe laughing, let alone smiling, since he got here. "Zo tell me. What kind of game eez thees?"

"I wish I knew myself. But all in all, Christophe, I _have_ noticed Kyle's interest in men."

"'Ave you, now?"

"Oui."

They shared a laugh. Then the smile on Ike's face remained as Christophe's slowly melted. He knew the subject was serious, but he couldn't find it on Ike's face. The young man continued to stare out into the onyx waves. His face represented that of wonder and curiosity and just about a hundred other feelings he couldn't recognize.

"I think I might be able to say who it is," continued Ike. "The little things Kyle does. He listens to fusion and Broadway when he makes food for breakfast or when he's reading, but when he goes up to his room, he puts on a few 'Slayer' tracks. When he's out and I need to borrow something in his room, I find pictures of him in these exotic places and..."

"So you are telling me zat zis may be proof zat your brozzer has feelings for me?" asked Christophe skeptically.

"Well just last week, I found Kyle laying on our floor with three empty Irish Cream Baileys bottles muttering something about sweet French ass."

"HOLY SHEET! He loves me!"

"Christophe. My brother loves you. Do you love him?"

"... I think so," he laughed loudly. His face was bright red; he was utterly happy.

And, as a matter of fact, Christophe was as happy as he ever will be for a very, very long time. And with that final note, the Frenchman rested his head on Ike's shoulder in relief.


	7. Je Suis Under Attack

**NOTE: ****Not really a note, more of a thank you. :) Anywho, the story is about half way done after this segment of our epic journey. Ike believes he has finally found Kyle's true love. But, as you all know, a good ending never happens in the middle of the story, so sit tight; there's more!**

**NOTE 2: ****This might be an iddy-biddy chapter... I think... Yeah, probably... Enjoy!**

**NOTE 3:**** Forgive the rambling. If you find I'm rambling, please say so. :3**

**NOTE 4:**** Sorry for the delay; I've been working on a novel. That's right! A novel! I'm currently working on chapter three. It's called Rising Moon. I'll send you all a link. Tell me what you think. Go to webook dot com and search for Rising Moon in the search bar. It's the first result.**

* * *

**Chapter VII: Je Suis Under Attack**

"That's awesome!"

Ike was still in shock over the discovery and confirmation of his brother's true love. Christophe couldn't help but notice that Ike was leaping around in his flip-flops, thinking he might jump right out of his Bermuda shorts.

"Zees eez, uh, good news?" asked Christophe, tapping the end of his cigarette, letting the black ash flutter to the cobblestone.

"Are you kidding?! This is _great_ news! Now that I know who it is, I don't have to worry anymore!"

"Ike!"

The Frenchman and the Jew twisted to see Filmore running down the steps, almost tripping over a stone that jetted out of the cement higher than the others, and bumping into a tree so that he may support himself and catch his breath.

"Filmore, what the hell?" laughed Ike.

"The girls are back," panted Filmore.

"I shall find your brozzer," stated Christophe taking step. Ike grabbed his arm.

"No, you can't!" protested Ike. "Not tonight! I'll tell him at the wedding."

"He'll fleep!"

"He'll be relieved; that way he won't always have to keep looking behind his shoulder; I know already."

Christophe leaned against the same willow, which Filmore had removed himself from,

"Eet eez a shame," he said grabbing a soft hold of Ike's jaw, admiring his acne-free face. "Eef you weren't so cute, I wouldn't be agreeing with thees idea of yours."

Ike, removed his hand, not rudely, smiling. "Thank you so much."

The two newly-made friends rejoined the bachelor party, which was then turned into an all-out kegger with the girls joining the group. Ike felt good. Not the good you would feel like when you finish your English paper a few days before the due date, nothing simple like that. Ike felt really, _really_good. Almost the good when you grab the last scone at 'Starbucks,' or when you receive your progress report and realize that your average heightened the class average and was also the highest out of everyone. Sure you may get the dirty looks from that one kid on the other side of the room, but the goodness only exceeds goodness to greatness when your friends that got lower aren't jealous but happy.

Ike decided it wasn't even good anymore. With the last thought about the progress report, he decided it actually did evolve from good to great. I mean, who wouldn't feel great? Kyle, after all, had been a very secretive man. He's had that journal for quite a while, now. When Ike had finally uncovered the secret that his older brother had kept dear to him, he felt like Nicholas Cage in 'National Treasure' only Ike didn't have that look on his face that made him seem to have the IQ of a brusselsprout.

"IKE!"

Ike jumped in his skin when a hand and sudden voice came from behind. He turned around to find Stan's blue eyes beaming in the violet spot that was swerving on the dance floor and every 4 seconds skipped over his ocean irises.

"Jesus Christ, Stan," Ike panted. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Now I'm not gonna be around the bush with this," he began. "I know why I'm here, and I gotta tell you, I think it's brilliant. I've always loved Kyle! And him loving me _back_ is even better."

"No, Stan--"

"Now, I know I'm rushing into things. Does your brother know why I'm here exactly?"

"Oh, no!" Ike panicked. "He can't!"

"Hm.. Okay.. So, Ike, who's going out with your brother?"

"Uh, no one?"

"Wrong! I am!" Stan shouted with a grin the size of Rhode Island.

"You?!"

"Now, don't you worry about Kyle. He doesn't scare me... much."

With that final giddy note, Stan disappeared into the fog of the party.

This wasn't good. Ike had just convinced himself that Christophe was the true one! Now Stan thinks he is too?! And for the second time, Ike had the feeling of regret and confusion. The smoke machine and the vibrantly colourful lights weren't helping at all. Ike found himself swaying in the night, feeling like he was going to drop every time he looked up at the stars.

He heard this sound. It was between a whirring or buzzing sound. He couldn't make it out at all. He felt helpless. Was it the music? No, he could hear the music fine. One of the Kosmo albums was blaring on the speakers. Maybe it was the feedback. Did Butters leave the microphone too close to the sound booth again? According to Kyle, Butters had a history of being... well... stupid. No. Ike looked at the set of mics and all 3 were in place in the foam casing.

When Ike turned around, after the third whir/buzz, and found the culprit. It turned out to be Gregory calling Ike's name, but it was twisted and deranged over the pounding bass and Ike's sickness. It was getting worse. Ike pasted a fake, but not obvious, smile on his little face, and tottered over to Gregory, literally getting more sick by the step. He tried to say 'Hi,' but before he got it out, a unit of bile rose and was swallowed down again. Ike retried.

"Hi, Gregory," Ike slurred.

"You've been drinking, have you?" he chuckled, pointing a finger.

"Me? No," laughed Ike.

"Well, I need to talk to you. I think I -- no, I _do_ I got it! Talk about slow on the uptake. Kyle loves me!"

"Oh, God..."

"The penny's dropped good and proper! That's why you sent the invitation! You wanted your brother to be happy again. Well, you've got nothing to worry about, Ike; I love him too!"

Now this was just the Maraschino cherry on the cake of fuckdom, now wasn't it? Three men. Three young, eligible, handsome men. One is willing to drop everything he has at home just so he can be with Kyle. Was Kyle that important? Ike didn't mean to think about it _that_ way, but seriously. Ike couldn't look at his brother one morning and agree that he was cute. It didn't work that way. Kyle had the chance to say that about _Ike_because he remembers his little brother being the gum-flapping, dark-eyed, cute-as-a-puppy baby. Even as a young man, Kyle can still say his 20-year-old-brother is one of the cutest boys he's ever seen. He joked about sneaking up on him and having his way since Ike is only adopted. But no matter how unrelated they were, they treated each other like the closest of brothers.

These thoughts ran through his read like a crack-high puma. And the more he thought how good Kyle has been to him, the more he felt guilty about the deep hole he had dug for him and his brother. Kyle didn't deserve to have his personals exploited for Ike's own wants. Once again, he felt like he wanted to turn back time and completely forget about uncovering that diary. Was that what he was feeling, or was it his stomach. He wasn't sure, but after he released three drinks, a slice of cake, and a sandwich for lunch in liquid form all over the floor, he was absolutely sure it indeed _was _his stomach.

After his inside were completely expelled, sickness grasped its fingers tightly around the boy and threw him to the ground, his eyes rolling behind his eyelids. He was out like a light.

* * *

_He awoke that night in his bed. Well, not his direct bed, but the bed in which he was staying for the time being at the home. It seemed... bigger? Yes, it _was _bigger. The same width, about three or four feet longer, the sheets not tucked (and looking unusually whiter than usual) and waving gracefully, being lifted by the open patio doors to his right. The doors also seemed higher than usual and its windows seemed clearer. The doors were wide open like a book, its curtains also dancing in the midnight breeze like its pages. _

_He stepped out of bed and went to the open doors to stare into the deep violet sky. The stars were so bright, they were practically blue. The wind grew stronger; angry; almost violent. The bed sheets responded to the wind along with the curtains that were whipped around this way and that. With the sound of a cracked whip, the curtains slapped Ike's face and coiled around his mouth. Ike snapped into a panic and tried to free himself from the curtains grip, but no matter how strongly his brain sent distress signals for freedom, his arms would not respond. They simply stayed and moved with the storms winds._

_He heard another crack, but it couldn't be the crack of the whip-like movements of the other curtain; it had already grabbed his ankles. The crack he had heard was the crack of stone. The small porch he was on, two or three stories from the ground below, was made of stone. It was the porch. He saw chunks of the stone railing begin to decompose and fall onto the lawn that surrounded half of the house and then led to the rocky side of the hill that led to the beach. One small pillar of the railing fell off, then two, then four, and before he knew it, the entire railing had collapsed._

_The flooring was the next to go, and go it did. The flooring Ike once had had fallen and had been destroyed by the hard, cold ground below. Ike was flying in the wind in an awkward position, still being detained by the curtains from hell. The winds only grew stronger and more tenacious. The rocks on the ground actually were being pushed by the gusts and onto the beach. He tried to free himself, but his arms were nothing more than unhelpful. His face was being held by one curtain and his ankles by the other, feeling like the carcass of a murdered swine being led to a fire._

_He heard a rip. He looked up and noticed that the curtains holding his ankles were beginning to tear. Oh shit! But once again, his body did not respond to his brain. Something told him that his demise was right; deserving, almost. RIP! His ankles were set free, his feet dangling below him. He called for help. He couldn't. Was it because of his mouth being shut, or was his mouth just being stubborn like every other limb in his body. Finally (it was expected) the rough tendrils holding his head ripped and Ike's body was sent, plunging to the dark ground. His body felt lighter. In fact, he felt like he was flying. He had always wanted to fly. But no matter how good it felt to be free, his flying only sent him down. Gravity is a fickle bitch. He fell slowly but surely to the lawn, his screams loud and piercing that no sound was made._

_Then with a loud, thick, thump, Ike's body hit the earth. As the corpse lay there, its mouth than opened with a banshee-like screech._


	8. One of Us Must Save Our Ship

**NOTE:****I'm so glad I finally got Death of Eric Cartman finished. I hated that story so much. After I finish this story, I'm thinking of creating a uniquely adapted version of Footloose. Tell me what you think!**

**NOTE 2:****Remember, I'm also working on a novel on . Here's the link (it's hard to put it up) type in www (dot) weebook (dot) com (slash) ?p=f5772e4dd903442ebe76e88458fd726e&c=7113f5901570494ab0c3e8d2535ab479&pb=e40d3af5c8fc4df1b7baf8c51257ef98&pt=e9e24baebffb4c099d3831bc899c10f2**

**I need you're support, guys, thanx ;3**

**Chapter VIII: One of Us Must Save Our Ship**

"Ike, what the hell is going on?!"

Ike woke up with a scream that startled even Kyle as he approached him. Ike looked around himself. It was night. What time was it? He looked to the sky and saw that it was a regularly peaceful dark blue. What happened to the eerie purple? He was still on the grass. He looked up at his window and saw that they were regularly sized and the balconywasn't destroyed. It was all just a dream. A horribly bad dream. He noticed that he had loose leaves in his pajama pants and a vine or two around his wrists. From the looks of the gables creeping up the side of the wall and near the window, he must have climbed down in his sleep. He sighed with relief and collapsed on the soft soil, happy that he wouldn't be landing on thick chunks of stone. Kyle, assuming he collapsed from exhaustion or some other sickness, ran to his side and lifted him up by his arm.

"Ike, Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed lifting him up. "What's the matter? It's 6 in the morning. What the hell are you doing?"

"Uhh..." He scratched his head and looked around for an answer. "... Dunno."

"Wait right there, I'm gonna get you an icepack!"

"It's okay, Kyle, I'm okay."

"Okay?" Kyle asked, a bit angry. Kyle knew just about everything about Ike; even more than Sheila. "Of course you're not okay! You were sleepwalking again!"

"Sleepwalking? I guess that's kinda... Wait, _again_? When have I sleepwalked before?!" Discovering something new about himself was fascinating but also a bit frightening.

"Well, there was the night you couldn't do your timestables, the time you came down with the measles - let's see - _oh_, and there was the one time you got a B+ on your calculus test back in grade 2..."

"Jesus Christ, Kyle, I'm not a baby anymore!" Ike hated feeling small. Even though he was Kyle's younger brother, having him play a fatherly (or motherly) role made him feel even smaller.

"Well, I know that, Ike," Kyle replied with a motherly tone; he enjoyed this just to get Ike pissed. He then returned to his brotherly voice; a sound Ike fancied much more. "But you're still my little brother." He tussled his hair making Ike smile. "I know when something's wrong." He sighed. "Where do we start? Meh, it's not _too_ late - I can still sort out this wedding shit."

"Shit?" Ike queried. "What do you mean _shit_?"

"Ike," Kyle replied, "You know I didn't mean that; it's a figure of speech."

Kyle was on his way back into the house when Ike grasped his pajama shirt and twisted him around. He was _not_ getting out of _this_ one.

"No it isn't," Ike implied. "That's what you think, isn't it? I'm just flat-out retarded for getting married, aren't I? It's just some stupid label and-"

"I'm not pretending like I understand, Ike."

"No - of course you don't!" Ike shouted getting worked up. "You did just fine without a man, didn't you? You didn't do all the marriage and babies thing. You just 'adopted' the baby. Well good for you!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what the fuck did _I_ do?!"

"Well, I'm gonna do it right, Kyle! I'm gonna marry Flora, and I'm gonna love her, and I'm gonna have a bunch of kids and not keep secrets from them and... _shit_! ..."

Ike shielded his face with his hand as to stop the tears from being released. Just then, Token, Clyde and Flora came running out onto the cool grass with a whole group of people behind them. People with bagpipes and pan flutes and bongo drums and random singing. They were all clearly in good spirits.

"Clyde, what the hell are you doing?" Kyle asked.

"Aw, don't offend the band," Clyde replied with fake sadness. He then backed up to show Kyle the musical antique beauties. "We found these babies in the cellar. Just what we need for a wedding."

"Are these yours, Kyle?" asked Token lightly tapping on a drum.

"Well, no, but..." Kyle stopped. He looked at the state of the two guys and the girl. Then he looked at the dusty instruments. "What kind of wedding do you think this is going to be? Look at you!" His focus turned to Flora. "For the love of God, hun, you are _not_ marrying my son smelling like a hobo on St. Patrick's Day; hit the tubs!" Flora meekly ran off, quickly being followed by Token. "And where do you think _you're_ going, Token?"

"Scrubbing the bride's back!" came Token's reply.

"Oh, no you're not!" Kyle snapped. "I want the champagne on ice, the Uzo in the punch bowls, I want you to lay out the table cloths, the cutlery _and_ the best glasses, and I want you to wash and polish 'em first!"

"Ya," Clyde chimed nudging Token. "And don't just breathe on them and rub 'em on your trousers this time."

"Clyde!" Kyle said. "Get your boat!"

"But why?"

"Because I want the guests to dive down to the old wreck and look for pearl necklaces."

"But Kyle, we already planted the ones Flora found last night..."

"I don't care; I want my guests to be happy before the wedding starts." No one moved. "Well, for the love of Jehovah, would you just DO IT?!"

And in an instant, everyone moved from the lawn and did their duty. Kyle was left on the grass with Ike who was leaning against the house pulling weeds out of his pajamas. The only other thing left on the lawn were the bongos. Kyle looked back at Ike who was tending to himself and was glad that he hadn't paid the least bit of attention to his bitchy demands. Kyle felt more and more like Sheila every day. And although Kyle loved his mother all his life, he never wanted to adapt her tendency to shout and bark orders. He walked up to his brother and sloped down sitting next to him. He leaned his head on his shoulder.

"What's wrong, Kyle?" Ike asked.

"I'm becoming mom," replied Kyle.

"Oh, jeez, no you're not."

"Yes I am!" Kyle protested. He was standing now. "For the last few days I haven't been able to enjoy myself. Even at the party a few hours ago I was worrying my ass off if the lights would burn out or if the leak in the stone would crack. All I can do right now is complain, Ike, and frankly I don't like it. Not one bit! This is the reason I'm lonely all the time! How long am I gonna sit by the telephone and wait for a call for me? How long am I gonna turn over in my sleep and find the other side of the bed empty?" Tears began to fall from his lashes. "I'm sick of feeling sorry for myself, but I can't help it because everything is depending on me and I just can't do it; I'm a fucking failure! This entire wedding is gonna explode in my face."

Ike immediately stood up once Kyle's face fell into his hands and hugged him.

"You're not a failure," Ike hushed. "The wedding isn't gonna be bad; you don't know that."

"But I do know one thing," Kyle stated looking at Ike, pushing away lightly. "One of us is about to have the moment they've been waiting for. And let me tell you, Ike, it most certainly isn't me."

Kyle turned away to walk into the house to try and get as much sleep as possible when he bumped into the chest of a certain Stan Marsh. Kyle looked into his blue eyes and Stan looked into his. He immediately saw that Kyle was in great distress. He wiped a tear and held both his hands.

"Kyle, Kyle," he said softly, "What's the rush?"

"A small matter about the wedding," Kyle sniffed pushing himself away. He turned around and wiped his eyes and tried his best to make it seem like he wasn't crying; failure number two.

"Look, about this wedding," Stan began, then he saw them. He looked at the lawn and saw the bongos laying on the grass. "Hey!" He grabbed them. "These are my old bongos."

"Well, they do scare away unwanted visitors."

"Oh, you don't need these to do that."

"I'll say. My bite is worse than my bark."

"You don't have to tell _me_ that; I still have the scars. You wanna see?"

Stan began to take off his shirt when Kyle quickly pulled it back down. He turned to Ike. "Get to bed, Ike." Ike got up and smiled at Stan and went off. Kyle turned back to Stan and removed his hands from his chest. "What did you want Stan?"

"Well, uh, I had an idea for an extension."

"An extension?"

"You know. Maybe add a thing or two onto the house..."

"_Onto_the house? I don't need your fricking extensions. What the hell did you want?!"

"You're living my dream, Kyle," Stan said with his hands out. "This place. The island, the taverna, this is my dream!"

"Your dream?!"

"Yeah! Sheila said I could come as much as I want, but as of lately, transportation has been lax, thanks to you. It used to be _our_ dream."

"It may have _been_ your dream, but it's _my_ reality!" Kyle barked. "Hard work and a crippling mortgage..."

"Oh, alright!" Stan shouted back. There was silence. Stan spun to look at the sea. He clutched his hair in tight fists in frustration and then released it. He returned to Kyle much calmer. "At least let me take a look at the roof for you; it's not gonna last through any more hurricanes."

"I can look at my _own_ roof, thank you!"

"Fuck, fine! Be a fucking martyr!" Stan yelled. Then he looked into Kyle's passionate angry eyes and smiled to himself. "Shit, Kyle," he chuckled. "I've got kids; I know it's hard for you doing it on your own."

"Don't you go patronizing me," Kyle warned. "I like doing all this on my own. Every morning I wake up and I thank God that I haven't got some tight-assed, menopausal boy to bother me. I'm single, I'm free, and it feels great!"

Kyle turned away from Stan to look at the sea just as he did. "Kyle, why didn't you tell me Ike was getting married?" Stan asked.

"What?"

"Why didn't you tell me? I would have loved to come a little sooner. You know, maybe bring a wedding gift or something."

"It's absolutely none of your business."

"And what's this Flora chick like? Is she good enough for him?"

"And _that_ is none of your business either."

"Does she at least put out?"

"God in Heaven, _save me_!!!"

Kyle ran into the house just plain annoyed with this child-of-a-man. Stan, noticing no one else was there, began to walk away with his drums and tap a little tune. A tune that sounded familiar. If you would have been there listening to it as he walked off, you may have sworn it was the same tune he played when he and Kyle started their very own pan flute band.


	9. Does Your Mother Know Me Knowing You?

**NOTE:**Hey, people! Sorry the chapters are taking SOOO long. I've just been preoccupied lately. In case you've been wondering (ever since the first couple chapters of Being Alive) I finally have a boyfriend! We had our first date on the 23rd of December. His name is Ryan. I tried kissing him in the mall, but he turned his cheek. He's a little self-conscious of being judged and isn't a fan of PDA. I'll tell you more either in the next chapter of Mamma Mia or in Being Alive 2 (BA2). We're almost done the story, you guys, let's hope Ike, Stan, and Kyle all get what they want!

**NOTE 2:**I also want to thank '' for her honest constructive criticism. I'd appreciate it if other viewers did the same. She's, like, the only one who's giving honest opinions. Don't be afraid to speak your mind. YOU SHALL BE HEARD! And also to 'LoveLikeAHater', you're right, and I'm sorry, I'll try to update quicker. (Please don't destroy my should XP)

**NOTE 3:**Small reference to the Broadway musical 'Chicago'. First one to message me who spots it gets mentioned in Chapter X and receives my congratulations and a completely non-existent prize!

**Chapter IX - Does Your Mother Know Me Knowing You?**

Later that night, both young adults found themselves in their beds. Kyle in his, rusty springs and fluffy comforter and all, and Stan in his little bunk built in the wall in one of the few rooms in Christophe's boat he brought along. While Stan was on his way to the wedding, he missed the boat going to the island. In fact, both him and Gregory missed their boat giving them time to catch up after the horrible visuals during the 'Great North American Civil War (except Mexico)'. Don't believe me? That's what they called it. Google it!

Shortly after they got on the topic of love (Gregory's discovery of his sexuality, and Stan's merrying Wendy), a familiar Frenchman pulled up in a huge sail boat and asked them the directions to Kyle's island (not the actual name of said island). They then agreed that all three were heading to the same direction and that they missed their boat and Christophe had one to spare. They all got there in one piece (save the one fish Stan ate for dinner who was still alive and nearly bit his lip off), and got into the thick and sticky sludge that we now call the plot.

Thinking of that memorable travel, Stan smiled to himself and managed to get some good sleep forgetting the awkward talk/fight he had with Kyle. Kyle, however, didn't get a wink of sleep. The fight was pasted in his mind like a post stamp on a letter sent directly to Kyle's heart. The only sound Kyle emitted that night was silent weeping, not snoring or the pleasant moans he regularly makes realizing he's in the most comfortable bed in the world. Beds are normally units of comfort, but Kyle hated it tonight because beds were also symbols of love (no need to ask why). He tried to walk around the house to shake off the late-night creepies. As he stared into the starry sky from the kitchen window, he wished he would have had the nightmare that Ike had, at least he would have gotten sleep. And before the 'day-walker' knew it, it was 2 pm. The entire afternoon, he tried to sleep, but simply couldn't. He later decided that a pot-and-a-half of coffee would wake him up in case he collapsed. After blackening the pigment of his blood with pure caffeine, Kyle swiped the eye drops to rid the Christmas colours going on in his eyes.

Even after the small container of drops were put back into the cabinet, Kyle stared himself down in the mirror, looking at the sleep-deprived, quick-to-anger, perfectionist he had become in the span of a day or so. He then decided that this was not his day. And he didn't say this in the sense that he was having a bad day (even thought he was (horribly)), he said it in the sense that the day was not about him, but it was about his baby brother. He splashed cold water on his oily face and did a quick rub-down with the closest towel. He didn't look as good as new as he would have liked, but it was close enough to hide his crap-heartedness from the groom himself. It was the day of the wedding, and Kyle wasn't going to let any asshole ruin his day for Ike... Even if that asshole was him.

"This'll tickle y'all taste buds," Token stated confidently pouring Kenny a cocktail from the poolside bar.

"Ah, yes," Kenny replied, "but will it cure my hangover?"

"Y'all should look in the mirror, babeh," Token said putting away the silver jug and leaning in close, "'cause y'all cured mine."

"Damn well," scoffed Kenny. "We're close enough to be brothers, you incest-crazy fan-girl."

Kenny turned his back to the dreaded boy (in the hair sense) and leaned against the bar lighty sipping his drink with the thin red straw.

"Then you can call me Oedipus!"

Token, just like Kenny, was a love-crazy bisexual. Kenny had a theory about guys like Token (as well as himself) and it was this: God gave them a dick and a brain, but not enough blood to use both at the same time. If someone wasn't hitting on him, he was off hitting on someone else. Anything, for that matter, with a pulse and a hole to stick it to, was a target for people like them. Keep in mind, Kenny knew full well that he was also one of these people. Before Kenny could indulge in the vodka-soaked maraschino cherry pierced with the toothpick, Gregory came running in buttoning up a fancy swede shirt; burnt orange; very tasteful with his gel-slicked hair save for two tendrils of bangs teasing his nose.

"What time is it?" Gregory asked almost frantically. He then looked at Kenny who didn't look ready to appear at a formal ceremony. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for the wedding?"

"Oh, don't worry about me, Gregory," Kenny replied waving his free hand with a Kenny-brand smile glued to his face, "I've got oodles of time! Nothing worse than sitting around in a fancy suit in the California sun for hours waiting to get the damn girl down the aisle."

"But Kyle must be tearing his hair out doing the wedding on his own! What about Flora's parents? Doesn't the bride's father usually pay for everything? ... But then again Flora's parents are in North Dekota... so that means if not the _groom's_ _mother_ (in this case Kyle) wouldn't that mean the mother's _boyfriend_ has to do something?" Gregory, clearly over his head with the whole 'Kyle-in-love-with-him' thing, felt it was his need to take on the closest thing to being a father to Ike, now assuming Kyle loved him and all. "Yeah, yeah, what would the father do?"

"Usually... he'd pay for it. Though my dad drew the line at the third," Kenny stressed this by upping the bottom of a shot glass.

"And er, did he say anything beforehand - words of adivce - that sort of thing?"

"Yeah," Kenny admitted. He was referring to one of his few weddings where he married this one guy after dating him for 5 or 6 months. He had no idea, since there were no brides involved, who walked who down the aisle. So in humor, Kenny dressed up in a bride's gown and was walked down the isle by his dad Stewart. "Yeah - there was me in my dress, ready to waltz down the aisle and Dad whispered 'Don't worry, Kenny, I know a good lawyer'!"

Kenny just about fell off his stool cackling with laughter. He wiped tears from his eyes as Gregory was laughing too. "Why are we talking about my dad?" asked Kenny still giggling slightly.

"I think I'll go to my room now," Gregory said quickly with a hint of escapism, "- too much sun."

"Oh, Gregory, no, don't go please."

"Oh." Gregory warmed up to this mysteriously romantic character. "Let's catch up tonight."

"Hey, Kenny," Token chimed in. "Why don't we catch up from last night?"

"Look, I don't wanna remember last night! Last night never happened. I've drawn a veil over last night!"

Just as soon as Kenny downs the remainder of his second fruity drink and is ready to leave, along with cheering whooping and jeering, Vic and Filmore bumped into the boy, spilling the drink. Kenny didn't mind because the other drinks he had had made that last one seem like tap water; Kenny knew how to drink his drinks. Other boys who were the cause of the cheering whooping and jeering followed the three.

"Come on, Token!" said Filmore as Vic helped Kenny with the glass. "Get your finger out. Some people are here for the wedding!"

"Alright, then," replied Token leaping over the counter without regarding the little side door. He turned to Kenny who had the collected fruity glass in his cupped hands. He laughed at the little display, then turned to Vic. "Well, here's the bar - help yourself."

"No, _you_ have to do it," Vic said. "We're your guests now."

"Yeah," Clyde added. He ran with the jeering boys. "And make mine a rum and black." They laughed, all except for Token who walked, aside from leaping over the counter, back to his place and began to wipe the top with a damp rag.

Along with laughing and teasing and bumping into one another, Butters and Christophe came running to the bar carrying fishing rods.

"You two actually went fishing?" Kenny had asked. He then noticed that none of the two had any sort of fish in their hands. Not even a tadpole. "Is that all you caught?"

"Well, golly, Kenny, you should have seen the one that got away," Butters retold the story outstretching his arms. "It was this big..."

"Don't exaggerate," laughed Christophe.

Kenny reached over to the small sandwich plate on the bar and offered one to Christophe who looked famished. I mean, he _did_ have that look that women (and men) find attractive, but he looked like he hadn't eaten for days. Christophe raised his hand declining the snack.

"Sanks, but, no sanks," Christophe replied politely. "Butters promised to make me a leettle somesing."

"I did?" Butters asked. "Mom and Dad say it's awful impolite to forget things. Well, uh, I must be a bad little monkey."

"Do you not have a 'Hello Kitty Fun Oven'?"

"Well, you can bet your little buns I do," Butters answered him excitedly. He pulled Christophe's hand and ran into the house at near lightening speed.

Kenny looked around and noticed that everyone had fled this scene except for himself, Token, grinning like a fool, and Clyde who was lightly helping his friend out with the glasses and ice.

"Well, I got three hours to melt down," Kenny said with a sigh of contentment. He pulled out a carton of cigarettes. "Wanna dart?"

"Y'all wouldn't wanna ruin those lungs," Token said smoothly. "Not with all the moaning and huffing you'll be doin' _in_ those three precious hours." Kenny nearly swallowed his cigarette.

Clyde smacked Token's head. "You sad bastard!" Clyde turned to the smoker. "Don't mind him, Kenny, he can't help being a... what do we call it? ... Oh, yeah, an asshole."

"Look, Kenny - you can't ignore the chemistry between us!"

Kenny fish-hooked his finger on Token's golden chain and reeled him in. "Little boys who play with fire get their fingers _burnt_!"

"Well, you can call me the pyro technician of love, then."

"Okay," Clyde said throwing his hands in the air. "I am not apart of this, so, please pretend I'm not here." He continued to wash out a glass.

"Let me ask you a question, _Human Torch_," Kenny began. "How long have you been confident about... your choice in people?"

"Since a couple months ago," Token answered confidently.

"Yeah? And how long have you been out of the house?"

"Erm... _Three_ months."

"Does your mother know that your out?"

"... _Out?_ ..."

"... Of the closet, R-Tard."

"Umm... Well, uh..."

"Okay, listen here." Kenny meant business. He may have thrown around his dick here and there once in a while, but whomever he _did_throw it to, he meant it to. He had a specific choice in people, and one of those choices were people who were confident about themselves and free. "I dig confidence, and if your God-damned mommy doesn't know, than I can't take a chance on a kid like you; it's just something I wouldn't do."

"Well, I dunno," Token began with a look as if he had something up his non-existant sleeve. "Maybe we don't have to go into anything serious."

"Really?" Kenny asked in disbelief.

"Oh, sure. We can just hop on y'all springs and bounce 'til we make 'em squeak."

"First of all," Kenny snapped, "my bed's crappy as it is; there aren't any springs, and secondly, have you ever heard of the term 'taking it easy'?"

"Say what?" Token had always known Kenny as the sex-loving whore, and he was deeply confused that the class freak wouldn't wanna get with the 2nd cutest boy back in grade four. Girls never lie unless it involves cute Macy brand shoes with an amazing white little strap.

"I _mean_," continued Kenny, "you need to take it easy. You're never gonna get a guy or girl in your pants if all you wanna do is tie them up for kinks and do #17: the spread eagle for 3 hours the first time you meet them."

Token was speechless. But then again he was kind of expecting some sort of life lesson/speech. Kenny _was_ the wisest of all the boys, after all.

"Say it with me," Kenny said. "Take it easy."

"Take it easy?"

"With more assurance, ya puss-lick!"

"TAKE IT EASY!"

"There we go!" Kenny cheered and congratulated the boy with a quick kiss.

Token was gonna re-grab the man's head and pull him in for a full-out tongue, but then Kenny's words of advice would completely go to waste, and Token had a lot of respect for him; anything for him that may result in sex, even if it takes another year. Flora ran in and, by the look on her face, was confused when she found that they guys were hardly ever doing anything. She wasn't freaking out for the lack of work, just the wrath that Kyle might inflict on the poor mortal souls who were found empty-handed and/or not contributing.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked. "Kyle's gonna go ballistic!"

And the three boys, knowing full well the wild-card Kyle was, put down everything and tried to find something to do.

Later on, roughly an hour or so, Flora found herself walking along the coast of the island. She wasn't on the beach where her toes would get wet and sandy, but on the hills edge, where there was a cobblestone walkway. A step more to the side and she'd tumble onto the sand down the hard hill's edge. This was a calming place to reflect. The calming sun, the amazingly blue skies with a touch of cloud and the pine trees to add onto the tranquility. The peace was soon interrupted by the pitter-patter of Ike's flip-flops.

"Flora!" Ike called. Flora quickly turned around with worry in her eyes.

"Ike," she warned. "You know it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding."

"I don't give a shit, Flora, it's all going wrong anyways! I need your help!"

"Why? What's happened?"

"I shouldn't have read Kyle's diary, it was so incredibly stupid, and now they're all after Kyle's dick and it's all my fault!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I invited them all to the wedding and I thought I'd know who Kyle's true love was as soon as I saw him but I didn't. Now I'm waiting for Kyle to choose which one he wants but he hasn't!"

"Slow down, babe, back up a bit. You did what?"

Ike took a deep breath. "I invited my brother's past three boyfriends to our wedding three months ago. I wasn't even sure if they'd all come."

"Three months ago?"

"Flora, you gotta help me."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"I knew you wouldn't like it."

"But when we first started going out, I thought we agreed to tell everything to each other. Now here you go invite three total strangers to our wedding and go behind my back like some stranger."

"Flora, it wasn't like that."

"You know what I wanted, Ike? I wanted to take a boat to the mainland and get married with a few witnesses, you know, quiet and romantic, but you _insisted_ on having a _fairy tale_bullshit wedding just so you could play the Dating Game with your host Ike Broflovski!"

"It's about knowing more about my brother before I get put into this slavery called marriage! I wanted to get married knowing who I-"

"It doesn't come from knowing who his favorite boyfriend is, Ike! How would you feel if I lied to _you_?! I accepted your proposal because I wanted to marry you and I loved you, you know?!" Tears began to swell in her eyes. Her face became red and her irises became magnified by her tears. "I thought you wanted to marry me because you loved me too. Now I don't know anymore..."

"You don't know if you love me?" Ike asked as Flora began to walk away.

"I don't know if that's what you really want."

Flora turned away the last time and bumped into Stan who was reading 'Life of Pi'. Stan picked up the dropped book and dusted it off with a smile that said 'sorry'. His smile quickly faded when he was Flora's tear-stained cheeks.

"Did I interrupt something?" Stan asked.

Flora didn't answer the man. She continued to run toward the house holding her face in her hand.

"Flora..." Ike said silently, his throat tightening with sadness.

"Leave her, Ike, she's right. You have to be sure this marriage is what you want."

"This has nothing to do with you!"

"Excuse me? I've known you all your life, I'm practically your brother." He held onto Ike's shoulders with brother-like love. "I can't let you marry that lady unless you're happy doing this."

"Don't touch me!" Ike order thrusting his shoulder loose. "I've had this conversation with Kyle before and he knows me a hell of a lot better than you do, Stan Darsh!"

"Right, what does Kyle the Kosmo know about marriage... _or_ divorce?." Stan looked at the boy. Ike turned away wanted this conversation to end but Stan was far from done. "Ike please listen to me. I've got my whole life's experience to cram into 2 minutes so hear me out. You're so young. You've got your whole life ahead of you..."

"Oh, not now, Stan, please."

"But I've been there, Ike, I've done the big white wedding, I've done the cake and the... you know. It doesn't always turn out happily ever after. Damn, I can still hear Wendy screaming. But what can I say, breaking is up is never easy, but I had to go."

"Go?" Ike asked. "You said you had kids."

"I do. The babies lives with their Mom. Me and Wendy had good time and bad times... mostly bad ones, and they all stay with me. I regret every bit of it."

"I'm not like that, Stan! I love Flora more than anything else in the world! Did you ever feel that when you got married?"

Stan paused and looked away. After he realized that this question was not rhetorical, he looked back at Ike. "No... No, I didn't."

"Then it'll be alright," Ike said very assured as he stormed to the house. "I _know_ it will."


	10. Slipping Through Our Last Summer

**NOTE** - I've noticed as well as my viewers that my writing style has changed. You wanna know why? Chapter 9 began the beginning of November and was on-and-off for half a year, and I am extremely sorry for all the people who can't wait for this story to reach its conclusion and then all of a sudden are like "Where the hell were you?!" So, ya, over that half year, I've gained experience in writing - I don't know, it gradually happened. I'm currently in a Writer's Craft class, so that could help. I guess my life's experiences have affected my writing styles (?). I dunno. Hopefully I can get this done as quick as possible.

**NOTE 2:** And I've decided to lay off BA2 until Mamma Mia is finally finished, then I'll finish that story up (however long that'll take, haha) and try to think of a new story, perhaps. Enjoy!

**NOTE 3:** I was gonna start writing again sooner, but the laptop broke down and production was delayed for a few months. I've finally decided to continue. The date is October 2nd, 2009.

**Chapter X - Slipping Through Our Last Summer**

Kyle continued to work on his face in his bedroom. He had recently noticed then that there was a rather unattractive cluster of zits sitting peacefully on his chin. Kyle hated zits as much as the last guy, but he found getting rid of them fascinating. He made a game of it. Almost like a game of Bomb Sweeper. There were some heads that would kinda just flop, but other would pop – you could hear them and, if you were lucky, it would land on the chin.

Kyle didn't enjoy playing the game as much as he normally would – the whole stress of the wedding and all. He pulled out from his drawer a Mega Pack of Oxy pads. Before his fingertips could reach his skin, there was a big knock at the door.

"Hello, Kyle?!"

"Gregory," Kyle breathed. He raised his voice and attempted to become more presentable. "Gregory? What are you doing here?"

He quickly slid on a violet, silk house coat, not bothering to tie the band. He opened the door a little bit of the way and then entirely.

"I wanted to give you this," Gregory replied displaying a cheque held between his thumb and coiled index finger.

"I don't mean _here_ here," he explained half-ignoring his gift, "I mean here on the island."

"Please," Gregory calmly pleaded further extended his arm.

Kyle rolled his eyes and sighed finally taking the paper and taking a good look at it. At first glance his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "Jesus Christ on ice-skates! What the fuck is this?"

"Well, I thought you must have had to tighten your belt over the years," Gregory assumed. "You've been looking after Ike all on your own. I wanted to contribute a little something to the wedding."

"Well, this could cover _FOUR_ wedding!" Kyle exclaimed. "… _And_ a funeral! Gregory, it's a lovely gesture, but…"

"Do you remember the last thing you said to me?" he interrupted. The two remained silent. Kyle's eyes fluttered to the floor while Gregory's eyebrows arched awaiting a response. Kyle raised his face to the boy letting his hair toss. "No."

"The night I bought you that guitar. I can remember thinking those were the last words I'll ever hear from you and I'll always treasure them. 'Oh, Gregory, it's a nice gesture _BUT_…' "

"You're lying!" Kyle laughed. "I'm sure I just said _toe-dah_ nicely like a well brought-up Jewish boy."

"That's better," he chuckled. "Do you know that's the first time you've laughed since I got here?"

"Well, I _am_ a bit stressed, Greg, what do you expect?"

"A bit more of the old Kyle – and a bit less of the well brought-up Jewish boy. I still remember our summer."

"Oh really?" Kyle asked somewhat playfully.

"How can't I? The walks along the Seine, the week I took you to Paris, the nights we'd swim in the lake while it poured on us – we swam in our clothes knowing they were going to get wet anyhow." Gregory sat down on the bed and wrapped a stray boa around his neck and hummed a C in falsetto. "Let's not forget the tour of Notre Dame," he added noticing Kyle's smile spread.

"You know I haven't."

"How could you? It was the best time of our lives."

Kyle continued to smiley humbly and then took one last glance at the cheque – after which his smile faded.

"Gregory, I can't take this. I dunno why you think I should."

"I want you to have it," he insisted.

Their conversations was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Come in!" Kyle called.

"We can't talk about this know. I'll see you at the wedding?"

"The wedding?"  
"Yes. I've been invited."

Ike opened the door slowly remembering their recent fight. He slid to the side to make room for Gregory exiting. Ike's eyes reached that of Kyle's with solemnity - the awkwardness of remaining fire-like anger lingering in the air like a house fire's smoke. Ike fully stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He looked rather dashing. He wore a beige v-neck with matching slip-ons with a bleached casual jacket and khakis. His beautifully painted irises made the beige more rich like caramel and cinnamon and his whites like icing sugar.

"That the suit?" Kyle asked. It was a nice suit, but it was wrinkled and the pants were dusty from the walk through the dirt path.

"Yeah…" He lightly twisted the ball of his foot into the floor.

"Marvelous," Kyle commented hesitantly. "Right, so are Filmore and Vic ready to help you?"

"Umm, Kyle? … Would _you_ help me?"

Kyle screeched his train of thought to a halt. Ike had always been independent in everything he did. Ike asking Kyle for help was like asking the lunch-time smokers to get together after school to research Michelangelo's sexual interests giving artistic evidence in an essay – in essay format. Kyle quickly nodded and motioned Ike to come to him as to get ready for the big moment.

He sat him down in the seat and began to rough his hair up with a special brush. He had to look roughish but not ratty. This was Ike's big day and it was Kyle's job to make sure he looked like he cared about it – and he did.

This process was especially important to Kyle. He never seemed like the brother he was supposed to be – like he was never there for Ike. The truth was that Ike never needed any help. Whenever Sheila wasn't home, Ike would change himself. Kyle would smell Ike from a mile away. He would wait on the couch as his mother was telling him what to make for dinner while she was gone as she made her way out the door. As soon as the door clicked shut, Kyle ran for Ike's bedroom to find him whipping his own bum then applying powder. Ike wouldn't notice Kyle but his older brother would have been seen standing at the door with a look of disappointment.

Ike would be in bed, his eyes blissfully shut, is mouth lightly opened in the cutest 'O'. Kyle would sneak in and kneel next to his face through the crib's bars and softly stroke his cheek with the surface of his finger. Ike's face would twitch every so slightly with sensitivity making Kyle smile.

Kyle did this more than once when he felt down or depressed. One night he was in Ike's room, he spotted a tear on his face slowly trailing from his eye. A silent nightmare. This made Kyle cry himself. It was the one moment where he felt truly close to Ike – when both their tears were removed by the same finger.

This moment, right before the wedding, would be the second moment.

"Alright," Kyle announced holding out Ike's suit coat after being ironed. "Slip in."

Ike slipped on the coat and looked in the mirror. He smiled proudly. That same smile slowly drooped into a face of indifference. Kyle snapped off a white rose from a vase on his dresser and carried it to Ike still observing his new self. He reached around Ike's shoulders and began to pin the rose to the coats front pocket.

"Kyle," Ike suddenly said.

"Yes?"

"Do you think I'm letting you down?"

"Why?" he asked still focused on the flower.

"'Cause everyone's all like 'Oh, your brother's so cool raising his baby brother all by himself and running his mom's business – and all with a straight face'."

"Well, didn't have much of a choice raising a child, did I?" he replied as if Ike's statement were ludicrous. "As for the whole 'straight face' thing, I didn't really need that much help in acting like I was okay. Sure, mom's death hit me like a brick, but when it came down to it… I didn't like her that much."

"No!" Ike exclaimed. He wasn't upset - Ike didn't like her either – but he was curious as to why. "I thought you and mom were on good terms. Why were you crying a while ago?"

"She was still my mom. But when she died I was too bent on the fact that she deserved it. It took me a while to realize she was never coming back."

Ike looked at himself once Kyle was officially finished his touch-up. They were both impressed.

"Kyle," Ike quickly turned around to him. "Would you give me away?"

Once again, Kyle quickly nodded – smiling bigger than he had ever thought before. Ike swiftly grasped Kyle's body with his arms in a deeply compassionate monster-of-a-hug. "Thanks, bro!" Ike quickly ran out of the door almost running right into Stan who was in the doorway. "Oh. Hey, Stan."

"Hey, lil' bud."

Ike ran off leaving Kyle and Stan alone. Stan closed the door behind him as he walked in with a certain Kyle who now seemed to be upset.


End file.
